


Just a Trick

by felixies



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixies/pseuds/felixies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hi all! This is my first fan fiction and I just did this on one go. Obviously, I don't own Sherlock Holmes. Comment if you like!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Trick

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" You stand in the middle of Sherlock's living pointing a gun at him. He is holding cutlery in his hands, an assortment of forks, knives, and spoons. This past month have been nothing but aiding Sherlock in whatever experiments and cases he is on. This week's case revolves around magic and illusions. Sherlock decided to take the undercover route, which means you are his lovely and obedient assistant, hence the gun.

"Shouldn't the gun be loaded with false bullets?" you ask, your hand trembling out of anxiety.

"Don't worry. I looked up how to do the bullet stopping trick on youtube. We just have to make sure it works. It'll be our in to the magician's guild and get close to whoever killed the lady who was literally sawed in half," Sherlock reassures in the worst way.

"Can't you at least start with a card trick?" you beg. With a exasperated scoff, Sherlock drops the cutlery and walks over to you, taking the gun from your shaking hands. 

"It's you I'm worried about. You will definitely blow our cover if you can't act confident enough," Sherlock complains. In one swoop, he pushes the gun back in your hands, wrapping his own hands around yours as he stands intimately close to you. His sudden proximity throws you off guard, causing you to blush slightly. He chuckles softly as he helps you aim the gun towards the smiley face on the wall. "You better pay attention instead of getting lost in thought about me," he whispers in your ear. You perk up and accidentally fire the gun at the wall, the bullet boring a hole in one of the smiley face's eyes. "Lucky shot. Care to aim for the other eye?"

Building up the desire to shoot his eye out, you take out your anger towards him by shooting at the wall, able to hit the other eye. He lets go of your hands as he examines the wall. "I guess luck has nothing to do with your aiming prowess." Pissed off, you fire the gun at him, almost grazing the top of his head as the bullet lands above him on the wall. You put the safety on the gun and set it down, a smile on your face that could match the one on the wall. You see Sherlock, unable to move from his spot when you shot the gun, his eyes unblinking, his mouth tightly pursed out of fear, and his breathing at a halt. Just to be sure that he is not dead, you go over to him and place two of your fingers on his neck pulse. 

"Good. For a minute I thought that I lost the dear detective. You can move now. I set the gun down," you reassure this time. He doesn't move an inch and hasn't spoken a word, the latter causing you concern, seeing as how he never shuts up ever, even when there is no one to talk to in the room. You move closer and closer to him, placing your hands to the sides of his face, positioning his eyes to look at you, just to find some change in dilation. Slightly dilated. That's a good sign. You try to speak to him again. "I swear, Sherlock, you better answer me."

"3 millimeters," Sherlock said. You are confused with his answer. No mention if he is fine, or if he is hurt.

"What are you on about?" you ask.

"The bullet landed 3 millimeters above my head. That was incredibly close," Sherlock answers. You search in his eyes for some emotional reassurance that he is okay, rather than hearing him ramble about the precise measure of bullet placement.

"Do you need to go see the doctor?" you ask. He snaps back in focus, looking down at you and smiling. He pushes you off and grabs the gun. Scared about his sudden interest in the gun, you take it from his hand and tries to put it back. He stops your hand and asks, "How precise can you shoot the bullet?" He takes the spray can sitting on the coffee table, makes a bullseye on the wall, and then measures its circumference. "Okay, shoot the bullet precisely in the middle and about 6.75 millimeters left and right of the first bullet."

Out of amusing him, you shoot the gun three times, not caring where they land. After the three shots, he quickly checks to see how close you got to his request. You continually think that Sherlock is being an ass and is not going to agree to being his assistant. Although, being close to him is a perk of going on cases and constantly seeing dead bodies. Your mind starts to wander again as he stands in front of you smiling. "You are either very lucky or just stupidly precise about firing a gun. Whatever the case, you are definitely going to be a big help to me. Care to be my assistant?" He asks. 

You immediately push the gun under his head with the hammer cocked. "You better take care of me and prevent me from getting killed, or else I will kill you," you threaten.

"Such an empty threat if you end up dead before the case is done. Also, there are no more bullets in the chamber, bringing literal depths to your threat," Sherlock answers flatly. Just to prove a point, you quickly pull the gun away from his head and fire the gun at the wall, with the last bullet in the chamber. You whip the gun back under his head, revealing a mischievous smile on your face. "Don't underestimate my slight of hand, dear Holmes, especially when I have at least five more bullets in my pocket to slip into the gun."


End file.
